


Corsicana

by BugTongue



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, nightlight girlfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 20:40:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2202321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BugTongue/pseuds/BugTongue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kanaya is a sappy lovebird and Rose doesn't like the dark. Includes bad puns and attention to detail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corsicana

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Toomuchshyness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomuchshyness/gifts).



> A bedtime story for Teo/talkingwhileshy

By the time that we woke up  
We couldn't stop the sparks  
We couldn't see outside  
When the curtains fell apart  
We couldn't hear books  
When the pages curled away  
We should shut that window we both left open now  
...  
The way she says your name, her strange tongue smoothing out the edges into something soft and pliant, just like it does to the rest of you when she's found an activity more rewarding than pseudoscientific diatribes.

The way she says your name, breath warm on your chest just under your throat, warm hands cupping your face so your hight is nothing more than a reason for you to lean in and bend her back. Your hands secure around her waist and hers sliding up to trace your ears.

The way she says your name while laughing, hand over her mouth curl-fingered and dainty. Drunk-fuzzy and loud with her hands on the floor where she fell, asking you to help her up.

The way she says your name shatters your heart into little pieces of love, need, and desire. When her pale hair flips out of place as she walks past an air vent you don't have it in your being to go another moment without fixing it. When she gets a run in her clothing you dont bother asking her measurements to make replacement, you need only daydream to recall exact numbers.

Rose lalonde is the dream you've been having on repeat like an omen, the brightest darkness to take hold of you and the cthyonic flame that makes your pumpbiscuit remind you why you need to be held. Her lips are a thickly glazed pastery that needs to be eaten up immediately after being created. Her skin is like-

"Kanaya." You suppress a quiet sigh as you're brought back to the dust-scented library. "Is there something on my face that you're simply too polite to speak of or are you waxing poetic again? If it's the latter I'll once again request a written copy for later study." Her lips quirk up to the left and you do sigh.

"I am not a poet rose, I'm just watching the candlelight." You smile when her brow furrows just slightly.

"Riddles now? How intriguing, you wouldn't mind explaining that one would you?" She turns the page of her book though her eyes have not darted downward since she caught you staring. You have to chuckle at that, catching your forefinger between your teeth.

"You are my light, dearest." The tilt of her head and the way her shoulders sag is what you were looking for. The smallest things to give away her thoughts and feelings.

"Here I had thought perhaps you were beyond puns."

When she curls to your stomach in the sleep cycle and grips you tighter than a slumbering grub attaches itself to a cavern wall, you kiss her ear. She shivers and turns her face to meet your lips.

The way her name pours down from your lips makes her turn her face again, but towards the floor this time. You nuzzle the crook of her neck, hand traveling down the curl of her side.

"... rather dark in here, wouldn't you agree?" The smallest quaver in her voice stills your hand.

"Yes, is that not desirable for a resting state?" You slide your hand up and use your nails to smooth a lock of hair behind her ear, then just repeat the motion until she turns again and brushes her bare lips against yours.

"For most, I suppose. I don't care for the dark anymore." You slip your thigh between her knees and tug her closer so you can kiss her properly, allowing your skin to illuminate the room. She relaxes her hold on your arm and scoots herself up so she lies between you and the quilt, lashes casting long shadows up across her forehead.

"Much appreciated..." you prop yourself up with an elbow and catch her mouth again, feeling the skin of her spine, tailbone, thigh.

The way she says your name, like its being steadily dragged from her guts, trembling arms holding herself above your form. You push your fingers between soft folds and drag your pads carefully along that ridge so similar to your own but fleshier. Minding your nails, already as shortened and smoothed as you can stand so you wont hurt her, you drag your tongue across her clavicle and kiss where it greets shoulderbone.

"Dearest, if you fear the dark you only need to ask for a comfort." She shudders above you as you spread your fingers and rub your thumb in the slick mess begining there, sliding it up to her stunted bulge and circling until your name spills from her lips again.

Once she's sagged down atop your torso you pull your hand free and hold it off to the side, unsure of which way to clean up. You go with licking them clean, and her once she's willing to sit up.

She kisses your cheek and wraps her arms around your chest, resting her forehead on your shoulder as she drifts.

"I believe you were mistaken, love." You run your dry nails along her back and neck, bodies swaying slowely from one side to the other and bouncing shadows around the room.

"How do you mean? Im afraid im not following." She sits up and leans back, taking you in. For a while she stays silent, lashes fluttering with fatigue. Then she lifts a hand to rub a spot on your lip, cup your cheek, tilt her head.

"The reverse of something you said before, if we are to speak technically it is you who is my light." The smirk gracing her lips causes you to shake your head.

"Really rose, and you criticize me on my puns while making bad jokes after sex." Her lips meet yours again and soon she's asleep in your arms, content.  
...  
We lost our chance to run  
Now the door's too hot to touch  
We should hold our breaths with our mouths together now  
\- The Antlers


End file.
